


Future

by Resoan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ancient Arlathan, Gen, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 02:59:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4770938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resoan/pseuds/Resoan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fen'Harel and Dirthamen consider the current state of Elvhenan, and the future that might follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Future

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written on tumblr in honor of Solas Positivity Week.

“You  _knew_  what Falon’Din was to do  _before_  he had a mind to do so?” Fen’Harel’s tone was incredulous, and Dirthamen’s frown was grim, eyes drawn and resolute. “I was not aware you were capable of foretelling futures.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Fen’Harel,” Dirthamen replied, just slightly defensive, though it seemed the Dread Wolf was not condemning - was merely declaring, even if there were questions abounding in his eyes. “I see wisps and phantasms of events, of  _people_ , but I learned long ago not to meddle.” Dirthamen pursed his lips then, a rogue strand of black hair settling against the side of his neck as he turned his gaze away.

“You have…attempted to change what you’ve seen?” Fen’Harel asked, seemingly confused.

“Indeed I have, and with disastrous result. The moment I decide to act is the moment everything changes, and never for the better.” Among the many pieces of knowledge and wisdom Dirthamen carved from his meditations were also bits of possible future events: of an aristocratic family’s demise, of the sway of one god over the other, or less frequently, of death and destruction for more than a disparate entity or household. Even those most devoted to Dirthamen rarely knew the burdens tugging at his heart, weighing it down with responsibility and grim duty, but it was then that Fen’Harel smirked his charming, charismatic smirk, and refilled the goblet Dirthamen was holding with yet more wine.

“Then perhaps we ought not to dwell on such things,” Fen’Harel remarked, jostling the irritating curls from the line of his jaw where they had startled to tickle. The wine was heavy on his tongue, and his smile returned when Dirthamen took a drink of his own. 

It was not often the pair were afforded time enough to spend in the other’s company - not when many of the pantheon were beginning to dislike Fen’Harel’s presence and Dirthamen himself spent months at a time in meditation in a temple hidden far from anyone’s eyes. 

“You seem particularly disquiet,” Fen’Harel then murmured, grey eyes catching Dirthamen’s only once before glancing away. “Does something weigh especially heavily on your mind, or has Falon’Din been more irritating than usual of late?” Fen’Harel did not bother attempting to hide his smile, and the smile turned into quiet laughter when Dirthamen tried to fight away his own in response.

“Mythal has confided some troubling things with me is all,” Dirthamen replied, his smile turning sharply into a frown before taking another drink from his goblet. “It is nothing we have not seen or heard before, but I suppose she was not as easily able to contain Elgar’nan’s fury when last it was piqued. Add to that Andruil’s constant forays into the Void, and Falon’Din deciding he  _needs_  more followers, and I begin to wonder that we haven’t destroyed ourselves yet.”

“Surely they are not so foolhardy as to be self-destructive,” Fen’Harel replied disbelievingly.

“Were it that simple,” Dirthamen commiserated. “No, I fear for the people if the others cannot contain their shortcomings. It is they who will suffer should Andruil lose her mind utterly to corruption, should Elgar’nan’s fury be uncontrollable even through Mythal’s efforts…,” Dirthamen paused then, taking another, long draught from his goblet before setting it to the side. “And Falon’Din. He has not learned from his mistakes - sees only the limitations placed upon him, and I fear how long until he loses patience.”

Fen’Harel’s lips were pursed by the time Dirthamen finished, though he gingerly placed a hand on the god’s shoulder. “Should that time come,  _lethal’lin_ , I will aid you in bringing them to heel.” When Dirthamen turned to the Dread Wolf with gratitude, it was almost frightening to see the expression in his face, glowing almost menacingly in his eyes: at first, Fen’Harel had sought only his own power, sought to further his ambition, but now, Dirthamen had begun to see the Dread Wolf’s motivations change. His selfishness was gone, crushed under the cruel realizations of how Falon’Din or Elgar’nan or Andruil treated their respective slaves, and Dirthamen feared what would ultimately come of it - in truth, had already begun to see glimpses of such a future, though he kept such dark thoughts to himself.

“ _Ma serannas_. It will be no simple task to do so, but if anyone were to outwit them, I should think it would be you.” 

“Hah! You place too much faith in me, Dirthamen. It is you who are the Keeper of Secrets and Wisdom, after all.” And, just like that, the menacing glint was gone, and Dirthamen could only smile.


End file.
